<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>concrete truths (i suppose i don't know you) by Beings_Of_Stardust_Are_We</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25349674">concrete truths (i suppose i don't know you)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beings_Of_Stardust_Are_We/pseuds/Beings_Of_Stardust_Are_We'>Beings_Of_Stardust_Are_We</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Black Hermione Granger, Gen, Harry Potter Is Big Brain, Harry Potter Thinks Draco Malfoy is Up to Something, Hermione Granger is the Only Reason These Two Idiots Are Still Alive, Hurt/Comfort, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Indian Harry Potter, Light Angst, M/M, Magical Diseases, Not Canon Compliant - Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, Redemption, Ron Weasley is a Good Friend, Sick Character, Sick Draco Malfoy, This Was Supposed To Be A One Shot</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 07:08:06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>17,013</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25349674</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beings_Of_Stardust_Are_We/pseuds/Beings_Of_Stardust_Are_We</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>After the events of his first year, Harry Potter is all ready for a normal year at Hogwarts. Strange house elves notwithstanding, his world is once again turned around by the strange behavior of his school yard nemesis, Draco Malfoy.</p><p>He's got to be up to something.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Draco Malfoy &amp; Moaning Myrtle, Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Harry Potter &amp; Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger &amp; Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger &amp; Harry Potter &amp; Ron Weasley</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>137</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. truth is i'm a bit confused</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Me: Okay I want to write another fic</p><p>My brain: Canon divergence</p><p>Me: Okay, but what kind?</p><p>My brain: Beat up Draco</p><p>Me: Uhh I already did that in BUABS. Any other ideas?</p><p>My brain: Set it a bit later. Not pre-canon. DURING canon. But yeah beat him up</p><p>Me: Not enough variety, bro. I need to do something other than write Draco Malfoy hurt/comfort.</p><p>My brain, banging pots and pans around inside my skull: BEAT! UP! DRACO! BEAT! UP! DRACO!</p>
    </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I do steal some stuff from the books. Just throwing that out there. </p><p>I am not claiming ownership of any of this or of the characters.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>In his twelve years of life, Harry Potter had developed a collection of concrete truths about himself and the people around him. He was a wizard; his best friends were Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger; his parents had been murdered before he could talk. Ron was an amazing friend; Hermione was a genius; Professor Snape hated him more than words could say. He had his truths about Professors Dumbledore and Mcgonagall, about his aunt and uncle and cousin. And of course, he had his truths about Draco Malfoy.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Truth one: Malfoy was a blood-purist prick who happily mocked everything from Harry’s dead parents to Ron’s family’s poor financial status.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Truth two: He was physically incapable of not doing so. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>These two truths being what they were, Harry was understandably shaken as he stood in the middle of the crowd at Flourish and Blotts, staring at his decidedly silent archenemy and trying to stifle an undeserved flash of worry.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He’d seen a brief glimpse of the boy when he’d been hidden in the cabinet in Knockturn Alley, listening to Blonde Prat Sr. sell dark artifacts and scold his son for his grades, but the light streaming in from the bookshop’s windows made everything much clearer. Malfoy’s face was drawn and even paler than usual, and his usually sharp grey eyes were flat and sunken, underlined with dark circles that stood out like black ink on his pallid skin. Between those and disturbingly prominent cheekbones, he had the look of someone with both feet in the grave. He fixed Harry with a level stare, and he could feel his mouth move almost of its own volition.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“God, Malfoy, what </span>
  <em>
    <span>happened </span>
  </em>
  <span>to you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was no reply, and Harry felt several people materialize at his shoulder. Ron stepped forward, glaring at the zombie-like blonde in front of them. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Oh, it's you," said Ron, looking at Malfoy as if he were something unpleasant on the sole of his shoe. "Need something, Ferret, or are you just here to make everyone uncomfortable?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Still no response. Ron bristled under the empty stare. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“By the way, didn’t your Mummy have the heart to tell you that you look like one of those masks dear old Dad used to wear? What are you, dying or something?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Now </span>
  <em>
    <span>that </span>
  </em>
  <span>got a rise out of Malfoy. His lip curled, though the sneer had almost no malice. “Not surprised that you’re acquainted with the look, Weasley.” His raspy voice rattled in his throat. “No way your parents could afford a trip to Saint Mungo’s; how many siblings </span>
  <em>
    <span>have </span>
  </em>
  <span>you lost to common colds?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ron turned red, dropped his books into the cauldron, and started toward the Slytherin, but Harry and Hermione grabbed the back of his jacket.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ron!” said Mr. Weasley, struggling over with Fred and George. “What are you doing? It’s too crowded in here, and too fine a day to stay inside!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Well, well, well - Arthur Weasley."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was Mr. Malfoy. He stood with his hand on Draco's shoulder, sneering with considerably more malice. Malfoy looked like he’d exhausted all of his energy with the one insult, and Harry could see him begin to lean on his father, almost imperceptibly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Lucius," said Mr. Weasley, nodding coldly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Busy time at the Ministry, I hear," said Mr. Malfoy. "All those raids... I hope they're paying you overtime?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He reached into Ginny's cauldron and extracted, from amid the glossy Lockhart books, a very old, very battered copy of A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Obviously not," Mr. Malfoy said. "Dear me, what's the use of being a disgrace to the name of wizard if they don't even pay you well for it?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mr. Weasley flushed darker than Ron.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"We have a very different idea of what disgraces the name of wizard, Malfoy," he said.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Clearly," said Mr. Malfoy, his pale eyes straying to Mr. and Mrs. Granger, who were watching apprehensively. "The company you keep, Weasley... and I thought your family could sink no lower-” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was a thud of metal as Ginny's cauldron went flying; Mr. Weasley had thrown himself at Mr. Malfoy, knocking him backward into a bookshelf. Draco almost fell over at the sudden lack of support, but Harry barely noticed it when dozens of heavy spellbooks came thundering down on all their heads a second later. There was a yell of, "Get him, Dad!" from Fred or George; Mrs. Weasley was shrieking, "No, Arthur, no!"; the crowd stampeded backward, knocking more shelves over, and Draco really did fall to the floor now; "Gentlemen, please - please!" cried the assistant, and then, louder than all "Break it up, there, gents, break it up -"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hagrid was wading toward them through the sea of books. In an instant he had pulled Mr. Weasley and Mr. Malfoy apart. Mr. Weasley had a cut lip and Mr. Malfoy had been hit in the eye by an Encyclopedia of Toadstools. He was still holding Ginny's old Transfiguration book. He thrust it at her, his eyes glittering with malice.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Here, girl - take your book - it's the best your father can give you -" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Pulling himself out of Hagrid's grip, he pulled Draco to his feet and swept from the shop.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Yeh should've ignored him, Arthur," said Hagrid, almost lifting Mr. Weasley off his feet as he straightened his robes. "Rotten ter the core, the whole family, everyone knows that - no Malfoy's worth listenin' ter - bad blood, that's what it is - come on now - let's get outta here."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The assistant looked as though he wanted to stop them leaving, but he barely came up to Hagrid's waist and seemed to think better of it. They hurried up the street, the Grangers shaking with fright and Mrs. Weasley beside herself with fury.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"A fine example to set for your children . . . brawling in public . . . what Gilderoy Lockhart must've thought -"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"He was pleased," said Fred. "Didn't you hear him as we were leaving? He was asking that bloke from the Daily Prophet if he'd be able to work the fight into his report - said it was all publicity -"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Despite the twins’ joking, it was a subdued group that headed back to the fireside in the Leaky Cauldron. They said good-bye to the Grangers, who were leaving the pub for the Muggle street on the other side, and stepped through the fireplace to return to the Burrow.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And somewhere between the fight at Flourish and Blotts and the discomfort of Floo Powder travel, Harry forgot all about the strange encounter with Malfoy.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. truth is i see the holes you're meant to fill</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Malfoy didn’t resurface in Harry’s mind until the first Friday of term. </p><p> </p><p>Charms had been going smoothly enough. Harry’s quill was halfway to the shade of royal blue that he was trying for, but there was enough time in the lesson to finish. Of course, Draco Malfoy just had to ruin it. </p><p> </p><p>Usually, Malfoy’s sabotage of Harry’s classwork came in the form of notes, stage-whisper jokes, or small jinxes, but he wasn’t doing any of that. Instead, Harry realized after his third stolen glance around the classroom, he wasn’t doing anything at all. The blonde wasn’t there.</p><p> </p><p>The other Slytherins were, he knew; Pansy Parkinson’s nasal giggle had been ragging on his nerves since class had begun. Only Malfoy was missing.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Truth three: Malfoy was a lot of things, but he was not an idiot. He was the second best in all of their classes, beaten only, of course, by Hermione.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p><em> Truth four: As Harry had witnessed in Borgin and Burke’s, Mr. Malfoy cared a lot about his son’s grades. Draco </em> never <em> skipped.  </em></p><p> </p><p>Beside him, Ron’s wand shot from his hand and hit Flitwick between the eyes, banishing all thoughts of Malfoy from Harry’s mind.</p><p> </p><p>**</p><p> </p><p>The next development came as soon as the next morning, on the Quidditch field.</p><p> </p><p>Harry’s morning came to a rough start when he found himself being shaken awake by none other than Oliver Wood, the Captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch Team.</p><p> </p><p>"Whassamatter?" said Harry groggily.</p><p> </p><p>"Quidditch practice!" said Wood. "Come on!"</p><p> </p><p>Harry squinted at the window. There was a thin mist hanging across the pink-and-gold sky. Now that he was awake, he couldn't understand how he could have slept through the racket the birds were making.</p><p> </p><p>"Oliver," he croaked. "It's the crack of dawn."</p><p> </p><p>"Exactly," said Wood. He was a tall and burly sixth year and, at the moment, his eyes were gleaming with a crazed enthusiasm. "It's part of our new training program. Come on, grab your broom, and let's go! None of the other teams have started training yet; we're going to be first off the mark this year -"</p><p> </p><p>Yawning and shivering slightly, Harry climbed out of bed and tried to find his Quidditch robes.</p><p> </p><p>"Good man," said Wood. "Meet you on the field in fifteen minutes.”</p><p> </p><p>When he'd found his scarlet team robes and pulled on his cloak for warmth, Harry scribbled a note to Ron explaining where he'd gone and left Gryffindor Tower, his Nimbus Two Thousand on his shoulder. </p><p> </p><p>Despite the early hour, he couldn’t help but be refreshed by the morning air. The day was already promising to be cool and crisp, and the fresh smell of the world after a night of rain made the inhumane practice time almost worth it.</p><p> </p><p>The rest of the Gryffindor team were already in the changing room. Wood was the only person who looked truly awake. Fred and George Weasley were sitting, puffy-eyed and tousle-haired, next to fourth year Alicia Spinnet, who seemed to be nodding off against the wall behind her. Her fellow Chasers, Katie Bell and Angelina Johnson, were yawning side by side opposite them.</p><p> </p><p>"There you are, Harry, what kept you?" said Wood briskly. "Now, I wanted a quick talk with you all before we actually get onto the field, because I spent the summer devising a whole new training program, which I really think will make all the difference…”</p><p> </p><p>Wood was holding up a large diagram of a Quidditch field, on which were drawn many lines, arrows, and crosses in different colored inks. He took out his wand, tapped the board, and the arrows began to wiggle over the diagram like caterpillars. </p><p> </p><p>As Wood launched into a speech about his new tactics, Fred Weasley's head drooped right onto Alicia Spinnet's shoulder, and he began to snore.</p><p> </p><p>The first board took nearly twenty minutes to explain, but there was another board under that, and a third under that one. Harry sank into a stupor as the captain droned on and on.</p><p> </p><p>"So," said Wood, at long last, jerking Harry from a wistful fantasy about what he could be eating for breakfast at this very moment up at the castle. "Is that clear? Any questions?"</p><p> </p><p>"I've got a question, Oliver," said George, who had woken with a start. "Why couldn't you have told us all this yesterday when we were awake?"</p><p> </p><p>Wood wasn't pleased.</p><p> </p><p>"Now, listen here, you lot," he said, glowering at them all. "We should have won the Quidditch cup last year. We're easily the best team. But unfortunately -owing to circumstances beyond our control -"</p><p> </p><p>Harry shifted guiltily in his seat. He had been unconscious in the hospital wing for the final match of the previous year, meaning that Gryffindor had been a player short and had suffered their worst defeat in three hundred years.</p><p> </p><p>Wood took a moment to regain control of himself. Their last defeat was clearly still torturing him.</p><p> </p><p>"So this year, we train harder than ever before. Okay, let's go and put our new theories into practice!" Wood shouted, seizing his broomstick and leading the way out of the locker rooms. </p><p>Stiff-legged and still yawning, his team followed.</p><p> </p><p>They had been in the locker room so long that the sun was up completely now, although remnants of mist hung over the grass in the stadium. As Harry walked onto the field, he saw Ron and Hermione sitting in the stands.</p><p> </p><p>"Aren't you finished yet?" called Ron incredulously.</p><p> </p><p>"Haven't even started," said Harry, eyeing the toast and marmalade Ron and Hermione had brought out of the Great Hall. <em> Merlin, he was hungry. </em>"Wood's been teaching us new moves."</p><p> </p><p>He mounted his broomstick and kicked at the ground, soaring up into the air. The cool morning air whipped his face, waking him far more effectively than Wood's long talk. It felt wonderful to be back on the Quidditch field. He soared right around the stadium at full speed, racing Fred and George.</p><p> </p><p>"What's that funny clicking noise?" called Fred as they hurtled around the corner.</p><p> </p><p>Harry looked into the stands. Colin Creevey, the first year who’d taken to following him around, was sitting in one of the highest seats, his camera raised, taking picture after picture. The sound was strangely magnified in the deserted stadium.</p><p> </p><p>"Look this way, Harry! This way!" </p><p> </p><p>"Who's that?" said Fred.</p><p> </p><p>"No idea," Harry lied, putting on a spurt of speed that took him as far away as possible from Colin.</p><p> </p><p>"What's going on?" said Wood, frowning, as he skimmed through the air toward them. "Why's that first year taking pictures? I don't like it. He could be a Slytherin spy, trying to find out about our new training program."</p><p> </p><p>"He's in Gryffindor," said Harry quickly.</p><p> </p><p>"And the Slytherins don't need a spy, Oliver," said George.</p><p> </p><p>"What makes you say that?" said Wood testily.</p><p> </p><p>"Because they're here in person," said George, pointing.</p><p> </p><p>Several people in green robes were walking onto the field, broomsticks in their hands.</p><p> </p><p>"I don't believe it!" Wood hissed in outrage. "I booked the field for today! We'll see about this!"</p><p> </p><p>Wood shot toward the ground, landing rather harder than he meant to in his anger, staggering slightly as he dismounted. Harry, Fred, and George followed.</p><p> </p><p>"Flint!" Wood bellowed at the Slytherin Captain. "This is our practice time! We got up specially! You can clear off now!"</p><p> </p><p>Marcus Flint was even larger than Wood. He had a look of trollish cunning on his face as he replied, "Plenty of room for all of us, Wood."</p><p> </p><p>Angelina, Alicia, and Katie had come over, too. There were no girls on the Slytherin team, who stood shoulder to shoulder, facing the Gryffindors and leering to a man.</p><p>"But I booked the field!" said Wood, positively spitting with rage. "I booked it!"</p><p> </p><p>"Ah," said Flint. "But I've got a specially signed note here from Professor Snape. `I, Professor S. Snape, give the Slytherin team permission to practice today on the Quidditch field owing to the need to train their new Seeker."'</p><p> </p><p>"You've got a new Seeker?" said Wood, distracted. "Where?"</p><p> </p><p>The wall of green parted to reveal a short boy with pale skin and dark hair, whom Harry recognized as Theodore Nott, another second year. </p><p> </p><p>Harry frowned as the two captains began to bicker, zoning out a bit as he argued with another fact. <em> Truth five: Malfoy would try to show Harry up in any way possible. </em> </p><p> </p><p>He’d thought for sure that the Slytherin prat would have tried out for the team, or at least bought his way in. Strangely enough, some part of him felt disappointed that they wouldn’t be taking their rivalry, if one even existed at this point, onto the Quidditch field.</p><p> </p><p>**</p><p> </p><p>The rest of the disastrous “practice” was a blur of slurs and slugs, but this time, Malfoy didn’t disappear from Harry’s mind. He spent all of Lockhart’s detention (at least up until the strange voice that the professor apparently couldn’t hear) puzzling over a couple of questions that were slowly forming in his brain. </p><p> </p><p>Why did Malfoy look so sick? Why wasn’t he attending classes? Why didn’t he join Quidditch? Why hadn’t Harry seen him in the hallways? </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> What was he up to? </em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. truth is i'm getting worried for you</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Oops, I already wrote another chapter!</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Harry groaned into his cereal as he checked his schedule for the first class of the day. “Double Potions with the Slytherins on a Monday morning. Brilliant.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Beside him, Ron made a sound of pained agreement. “First day’s when he's the worst, too… And then we’ve got bloody History of Magic! I can’t even look at the last block- knowing our luck, it’ll be Lockhart.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, don’t look.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ron shoved his plate to the side and plunked his head on the table. Harry patted his back, voice mock cheerful as he offered a bit of encouragement.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, cheer up, Ron! At least Filch hasn’t decided to start teaching yet!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t jinx it.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t jinx what?” Hermione asked, sliding into the seat next to them. She looked inordinately cheerful for a Monday morning.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We’ve got Snape, Binns, and Lockhart in one day,” Harry explained over another pained moan from Ron.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hermione looked a little bit flustered as she rushed to defend the pompous new teacher. “I’m sure he was just nervous last time; he really is a great wizard, you know!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ron slid off of his chair and onto the floor.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>**</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Their moods had lightened a bit by the time that they got to Potions- food and the antics of other Gryffindors working their magic. Harry was laughing at Ron’s summary of the twins’ most recent prank idea when he caught sight of a familiar streak of blonde hair. His laugh died in his throat.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Slytherins didn’t have too many classes with the Gryffindors this year: just Charms, Transfiguration, and Potions. Malfoy hadn’t shown up to the first two. Why was he here now?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Truth six was still going strong, Harry supposed. Malfoy’s favorite class was Potions. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The elusive Slytherin was mostly shrouded by his friends, visible only by his distinctive head of almost white hair. What Harry could see of it shone like a beacon in the torch light. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ron and Hermione were looking at him curiously, and he just shook his head. “Sorry, guys- zoned out for a little.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The red head shrugged and launched back into his story, only to be cut off by the door being thrown open. Snape stood in the doorway, as greasy and moody as ever. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, come in,” he snapped at the congregated students. “Don’t just stand there like a collection of flobberworms, though I suppose they are an ample comparison to your collective brain power.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Harry and Ron exchanged grimaces as they filed inside and took their traditional seat near the back of the classroom. Snape was just as pleasant as ever.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ron began to rummage in his bag for his textbook and quill, but Harry kept his eyes on the doorway as the Slytherins entered the room. There were Crabbe and Goyle… Nott… Parkinson and Zabini… </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Malfoy entered the room last, causing Harry to almost fall off of the bench at the sight of him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He looked even worse than he had at Flourish and Blotts. His robes hung off of his skeletal frame, and his skin looked translucent in the light of the dungeons. Strangest of all was the object that he was leaning on as he staggered into the classroom. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Malfoy was walking with a cane. </span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>**</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Potions was worse than Harry could have imagined; Snape yelled at him three times and he lost Gryffindor twenty house points, all because he couldn’t take his eyes off of stupid Malfoy! The boy seemed to be half asleep the whole class period, staring at the board with glassy eyes until it was time for the practical part of class, where he brewed a flawless potion like he was on autopilot while Harry managed to make yet another vat of toxic looking sludge. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His bad mood lasted through the day, and he had to quietly hand his wand to Ron halfway through Defense to stop himself from hexing their professor. Ron had snickered and said that the prat would deserve it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bad potions and a strong itch to learn a jinx to make teeth fall out aside, Harry survived the day. The time after dinner was spent playing Gobstones with Ron on the floor of the common room and listening to Hermione (the only one who could stay awake through Binns’s droning) recap the History of Magic lecture. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And yet, Harry couldn’t get the image of Malfoy leaning on his cane out of his head. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. truth is you seem nicer than before</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>I apologize for the amount of stolen lines in this chapter... Canon's just begun to diverge, sorry.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>October came swiftly, the days seeming to pass with a lot more ease now that Malfoy had decided to stop tormenting everyone who crossed his path. Charms and Transfiguration were easier without someone constantly heckling him, though Potions only got harder as Harry became more and more distracted with the increasingly ill health of the ex-bully. Others were starting to catch on as well.</p><p> </p><p>“Oi, what d'ya think’s goin’ on with Malfoy?” Seamus randomly said over dinner a few nights before Halloween. “I didn’t notice for a while since the bloke’s been gone from most of our classes, but he looks like death’s head on a mop stick, doesn’t he?”</p><p> </p><p>Dean snorted into his pumpkin juice. “What?”</p><p> </p><p>“He just looks pretty sick, is all.” The Irish boy looked a bit awkward. “You haven’t noticed?”</p><p> </p><p>“No, no- I’ve noticed- I was just wondering where you picked up that… turn of phrase.”</p><p> </p><p>The others listening to the conversation nodded too, and Neville seconded Dean’s question.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh,” Seamus said, scratching the back of his neck. “So I’m a halfblood, right? Dad’s a history professor at Trinity College- that’s a Muggle college in Dublin. He’s been doing some extra study on the Victorians recently, an’ he’s picked up some of their slang. Death’s head on a mop stick is one of the only ones that stuck for me- means a sickly, emaciated lookin’ person.”</p><p> </p><p>The other Gryffindor boys nodded in agreement, and Harry chipped in his Knut.</p><p> </p><p>“He’s been acting off since we saw him before term; didn’t rush to insult any of us, just kinda stood there. It almost looked like he was leaning on his dad for support. Have you guys noticed that he’s not picking fun at any of us either?”</p><p> </p><p>Neville nodded vigorously. “One time he even helped me in Potions! Stopped me from blowing up my cauldron again. I asked him why he did it, and he told me that he was too tired to deal with any explosions right now.” </p><p> </p><p>The idea of Malfoy helping someone, much less a Gryffindor, much less <em> Neville </em> with Potions was a bit too weird for all of them, and the group lapsed into talking about Quidditch instead. </p><p> </p><p>Harry remained silent, ruminating over the new developments. It might be time to break out the invisibility cloak again.</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>**</p><p> </p><p>By the time Halloween came around, Harry was about ready to scream. Tailing Malfoy was impossible!</p><p> </p><p>The boy wasn’t at meals, and anytime Harry saw him in the halls, it was when he had another class to get to. He couldn’t even tail the suspicious Slytherin after Potions because of how long it took to get to History of Magic from the dungeons! </p><p> </p><p>He’d thought that Malfoy would be at the Halloween feast at the very least, but he supposed that it didn’t matter either way as he, Ron, and Hermione trooped down to where Nearly-Headless Nick’s Deathday Party was being held in an obscure corner of the dungeons.</p><p> </p><p>The temperature dropped with every step they took. As Harry shivered and drew his robes tightly around him, he heard what sounded like a thousand fingernails scraping an enormous blackboard.</p><p> </p><p>"Is that supposed to be music?" Ron whispered. They turned a corner and saw Nearly Headless Nick standing at a doorway hung with black velvet drapes.</p><p> </p><p>"My dear friends," he said mournfully. "Welcome, welcome . . . so pleased you could come. . . ."</p><p> </p><p>He swept off his plumed hat and bowed them inside.</p><p> </p><p>It was an incredible sight. The dungeon was full of hundreds of pearly-white, translucent people, mostly drifting around a crowded dance floor, waltzing to the dreadful, quavering sound of thirty musical saws, played by an orchestra on a raised, black-draped platform. A chandelier overhead blazed midnight-blue with a thousand more black candles. Their breath rose in a mist before them; it was like stepping into a freezer. </p><p> </p><p>No wonder Malfoy looked so sick all the time, Harry mused. It was a miracle that the whole of Slytherin house didn’t have colds all year round. </p><p> </p><p>"Oh, no," said Hermione, stopping abruptly. "Turn back, turn back, I don't want to talk to Moaning Myrtle -"</p><p> </p><p>"Who?" said Harry as they backtracked quickly.</p><p> </p><p>"An absolutely miserable ghost- she haunts one of the toilets in the girls' bathroom on the first floor."</p><p> </p><p>"She haunts a toilet?"</p><p> </p><p>"Yes. It's been out-of-order all year because she keeps having tantrums and flooding the place. I never went in there anyway if I could avoid it; it's awful trying to have a pee with her wailing at you -"</p><p> </p><p>"Look, food!" said Ron.</p><p> </p><p>On the other side of the dungeon was a long table, also covered in black velvet. They approached it eagerly but the next moment had stopped in their tracks, horrified. The smell was quite disgusting. Large, rotten fish were laid on handsome silver platters; cakes, burned charcoal-black, were heaped on salvers; there was a great maggoty haggis, a slab of cheese covered in furry green mold and, in pride of place, an enormous gray cake in the shape of a tombstone, with tar-like icing forming the words, <em> Sir Nicholas de Mimsy Porpington- died 31st October, 1492. </em></p><p> </p><p>Harry watched, amazed, as a portly ghost approached the table, crouched low, and walked through it, his mouth held wide so that it passed through one of the stinking salmon.</p><p> </p><p>"Can you taste it if you walk through it?" Harry asked him.</p><p> </p><p>"Almost," said the ghost sadly, and he drifted away.</p><p> </p><p>"I expect they've let it rot to give it a stronger flavor," said Hermione knowledgeably, pinching her nose and leaning closer to look at the putrid haggis. Despite her outward calm, her dark skin had taken on a decidedly greenish hue.</p><p> </p><p>"Can we move? I feel sick," said Ron.</p><p> </p><p>They had barely turned around, however, when a little man swooped suddenly from under the table and came to a halt in midair before them.</p><p> </p><p>"Hello, Peeves," said Harry cautiously.</p><p> </p><p>Unlike the ghosts around them, Peeves the Poltergeist was the very reverse of pale and transparent. He was wearing a bright orange party hat, a revolving bow tie, and a broad grin on his wide, wicked face.</p><p> </p><p>"Nibbles?" he said sweetly, offering them a bowl of peanuts covered in fungus.</p><p> </p><p>"No thanks," said Hermione.</p><p> </p><p>"Heard you talking about poor Myrtle," said Peeves, his eyes dancing. "Rude you was about poor Myrtle." He took a deep breath and bellowed, "OY! MYRTLE!"</p><p> </p><p>"Oh, no, Peeves, don't tell her what I said, she'll be really upset," Hermione whispered frantically. "I didn't mean it, I don't mind her - er, hello, Myrtle."</p><p> </p><p>The squat ghost of a girl had glided over. She had the glummest face Harry had ever seen, half-hidden behind lank hair and thick, pearly spectacles.</p><p> </p><p>"What?" she asked sulkily.</p><p> </p><p>"How are you, Myrtle?" said Hermione in a falsely bright voice. "It's nice to see you out of the toilet."</p><p> </p><p>The ghostly girl sniffed.</p><p> </p><p>"Miss Granger was just talking about you -" said Peeves slyly in Myrtle's ear. </p><p> </p><p>"Just saying - saying - how nice you look tonight," insisted Hermione, glaring at Peeves.</p><p> </p><p>Myrtle eyed her suspiciously.</p><p> </p><p>"You're making fun of me," she said, silver tears welling rapidly in her small, see-through eyes.</p><p> </p><p>"No - honestly - didn't I just say how nice Myrtle's looking?" said Hermione, nudging Harry and Ron painfully in the ribs.</p><p> </p><p>"Oh, yeah -"</p><p> </p><p>"She did -"</p><p> </p><p>"Don't lie to me," Myrtle gasped, tears now flooding down her face, while Peeves chuckled happily over her shoulder. "D'you think I don't know what people call me behind my back? Fat Myrtle! Ugly Myrtle! Miserable, moaning, moping Myrtle!"</p><p> </p><p>"You've forgotten pimply," Peeves hissed in her ear.</p><p> </p><p>Moaning Myrtle burst into anguished sobs, but a voice stopped her from zooming away. </p><p> </p><p>“Myrtle, are you alright?” </p><p> </p><p>Harry jumped. No… it couldn’t be…</p><p> </p><p>Draco Malfoy limped through the crowd of ghosts, quietly apologizing as his dark wood cane went through a random nun’s foot. With his sickly pale face and skeletal body, he almost looked like a ghost himself. “You know that Peeves is only trying to upset you, right? You’re not any of the mean things he says.” He came to a stop beside the floating girl and held a hand out in the air, positioned like he was holding her shoulder. Harry realized that he wasn't in his school robes- rather, he was in a set of black formal robes with silver embroidery around the neck and down the sides. Had he actually gotten dressed up for the Deathday Party?</p><p> </p><p>“Draco!” The ghost girl beamed and hovered her arms around him in a semblance of a hug. “I thought you wouldn’t come!”</p><p> </p><p>Malfoy’s smile looked strange on his face, but perhaps it was because Harry was only used to looks of disdain, and this seemed to be genuine affection. “Well of course I did, Myrtie. Couldn’t leave my favorite Hogwarts ghost without a plus one, could I?”</p><p> </p><p>Hermione awkwardly cleared her throat. “So… you two know each other?”</p><p> </p><p>Myrtle, in what Harry could only assume was the greatest display of positive emotion she’d ever done, nodded cheerfully. “Oh yes- we’ve known each other since the start of term! I’m still trying to convince him to share my toilet if he-”</p><p> </p><p>“Myrtle,” Draco interrupted, looking uncomfortable. “I-”</p><p> </p><p>She let out a wail. “Oh Merlin, I wasn’t supposed to remind you! We were going to have such a nice evening, and I’ve gone and ruined it! I’m so sorry, Drakey- I should have just stayed in my toilet!” She zoomed off, and Malfoy hurriedly nodded once to the trio of Gryffindors and started after her, crying out for her to stop in his ragged voice.</p><p> </p><p>Harry stared after the unlikely duo in confusion. Beside him, Ron was dying from laughter, and Hermione’s face said that her thoughts were racing a mile a minute.</p><p> </p><p>“Well,” she decided as Malfoy disappeared back into the mass of ghosts. “That was interesting.”</p><p> </p><p>“Interesting?” Ron gasped. “Hermione, she- she called him <em> Drakey </em>!”</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>**</p><p> </p><p>The rest of the party passed without incident, and they were finally stumbling back out of the dungeons on frozen legs. Ron’s buoyant spirits, previously dulled by hunger and cold, came back in full force as the air grew warmer.</p><p> </p><p>"Pudding might not be finished yet," he said hopefully, leading the way toward the steps to the entrance hall. </p><p> </p><p>And then Harry heard it.</p><p> </p><p>". . . rip . . . tear . . . kill . . ."</p><p> </p><p>It was the same voice- the same cold, murderous voice he had heard in Lockhart's office.</p><p> </p><p>He stumbled to a halt, clutching at the stone wall, listening with all his might, looking around, squinting up and down the dimly lit passageway.</p><p> </p><p>“Harry, what're you -?"</p><p> </p><p>"It's that voice again - shut up a minute -"</p><p> </p><p>". . . soo hungry . . . for so long . . ."</p><p> </p><p>"Listen!" said Harry urgently, and Ron and Hermione froze, watching him.</p><p> </p><p>". . . kill . . . time to kill . . ."</p><p> </p><p>The voice was growing fainter. Harry was sure it was moving away - moving upward. A mixture of fear and excitement gripped him as he stared at the dark ceiling; how could it be moving upward? Was it a phantom, to whom stone ceilings didn't matter?</p><p> </p><p>"This way," he shouted, and he began to run, up the stairs, into the entrance hall. It was no good hoping to hear anything here, the babble of talk from the Halloween feast was echoing out of the Great Hall. Harry sprinted up the marble staircase to the first floor, Ron and Hermione clattering behind him.</p><p> </p><p>"Harry, what're we -"</p><p> </p><p>"SHH!"</p><p> </p><p>Harry strained his ears. Distantly, from the floor above, and growing fainter still, he heard the voice: ". . . I smell blood. . . . I SMELL BLOOD!"</p><p> </p><p>His stomach lurched -</p><p> </p><p>"It's going to kill someone!" he shouted, and ignoring Ron's and Hermione's bewildered faces, he ran up the next flight of steps three at a time, trying to listen over his own pounding footsteps -</p><p> </p><p>Harry hurtled around the whole of the second floor, his friends panting behind him, not stopping until they turned a corner into the last, deserted passage.</p><p> </p><p>"Harry, what was that all about?" said Ron, wiping sweat off his face. "I couldn't hear anything..."</p><p> </p><p>But Hermione gave a sudden gasp, pointing down the corridor.</p><p> </p><p>"Look!"</p><p> </p><p>Something was shining on the wall ahead. They approached slowly, squinting through the darkness. Foot-high words had been daubed on the wall between two windows, shimmering in the light cast by the flaming torches. </p><p> </p><p>
  <b> <em>THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED. ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE.</em> </b>
</p><p> </p><p>"What's that thing - hanging underneath?" said Ron, a slight quiver in his voice.</p><p> </p><p>As they edged nearer, Harry almost slipped - there was a large puddle of water on the floor; Ron and Hermione grabbed him, and they inched toward the message, eyes fixed on a dark shadow beneath it. All three of them realized what it was at once, and leapt backward with a splash.</p><p> </p><p>Mrs. Norris, the caretaker's cat, was hanging by her tail from the torch bracket. She was stiff as a board, her eyes wide and staring.</p><p> </p><p>For a few seconds, they didn't move. Then Ron said, "Let's get out of here."</p><p> </p><p>"Shouldn't we try and help -" Harry began awkwardly.</p><p> </p><p>"Trust me," said Ron. "We don't want to be found here."</p><p> </p><p>But it was too late. A rumble, as though of distant thunder, told them that the feast had just ended. From either end of the corridor where they stood came the sound of hundreds of feet climbing the stairs, and the loud, happy talk of well-fed people; next moment, students were crashing into the passage from both ends.</p><p> </p><p>The chatter, the bustle, the noise died suddenly as the people in front spotted the hanging cat. Harry, Ron, and Hermione stood alone, in the middle of the corridor, as silence fell among the mass of students pressing forward to see the grisly sight.</p><p> </p><p>Then someone shouted through the quiet.</p><p> </p><p>"Enemies of the Heir, beware! You'll be next, Mudbloods!"</p><p> </p><p>It was Theodore Nott, the Slytherin seeker. He had pushed to the front of the crowd, his cold eyes alive, his usually bloodless face flushed, as he grinned at the sight of the hanging, immobile cat.</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>**</p><p> </p><p>For a few days, the school could talk of little else but the attack on Mrs. Norris. Filch kept it fresh in everyone's minds by pacing the spot where she had been attacked, as though he thought the attacker might come back. Harry had seen him scrubbing the message on the wall with Mrs. Skower's All-Purpose Magical Mess Remover, but to no effect; the words still gleamed as brightly as ever on the stone. When Filch wasn't guarding the scene of the crime, he was skulking red-eyed through the corridors, lunging out at unsuspecting students and trying to put them in detention for things like "breathing loudly' and "looking happy."</p><p> </p><p>Ginny Weasley seemed very disturbed by Mrs. Norris's fate. According to Ron, she was a great cat lover.</p><p> </p><p>"But you haven't really got to know Mrs. Norris," Ron told her bracingly. "Honestly, we're much better off without her." Ginny's lip trembled. "Stuff like this doesn't often happen at Hogwarts," Ron assured her. "They'll catch the maniac who did it and have him out of here in no time. I just hope he's got time to Petrify Filch before he's expelled. I'm only joking -" Ron added hastily as Ginny blanched.</p><p> </p><p>The attack had also had an effect on Hermione. It was quite usual for her to spend a lot of time reading, but she was now doing almost nothing else. Nor could Harry and Ron get much response from her when they asked what she was up to, and not until the following Wednesday did they find out.</p><p> </p><p>Harry had been held back in Potions, where Snape had made him stay behind to scrape tubeworms off the desks. After a hurried lunch, he went upstairs to meet Ron in the library, and saw Justin Finch-Fletchley, the Hufflepuff boy that he’d met in Herbology at the start of term, coming toward him. Harry had just opened his mouth to say hello when Justin caught sight of him, turned abruptly, and sped off in the opposite direction.</p><p> </p><p>Harry found Ron at the back of the library, measuring his History of Magic homework. Professor Binns had asked for a three foot-long composition on "The Medieval Assembly of European Wizards."</p><p> </p><p>"I don't believe it, I'm still eight inches short,'' said the red head furiously, letting go of his parchment, which sprang back into a roll. "Hermione's done four feet seven inches, and her writing's tiny!"</p><p> </p><p>"Where is she?" asked Harry, grabbing the tape measure and unrolling his own homework.</p><p> </p><p>"Somewhere over there," said Ron, pointing along the shelves. "Got her own little study nook, I think. She won’t tell me where exactly-"</p><p> </p><p>Hermione emerged from between the bookshelves.</p><p> </p><p>"All the copies of Hogwarts, A History have been taken out," she said, sitting down next to Harry. "And there's a two-week waiting list. I wish I hadn't left my copy at home, but I couldn't fit it in my trunk with all the Lockhart books."</p><p> </p><p>"Why do you want it?" Ron asked. "Thought you'd memorized it by now."</p><p> </p><p>"No, Ronald, I haven't <em>memorized </em>it. But I want it for the same reason everyone else wants it," she explained. "To read up on the legend of the Chamber of Secrets."</p><p> </p><p>"What's that?" said Harry quickly.</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t remember what my book said, and my study partner only knows so much… All he could say is that it’s a legendary room in the school that was built by-”</p><p> </p><p>“Study partner?” Ron interrupted. Hermione ducked her head, cheeks flushing.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, I made friends with one of the… Ravenclaw boys. He’s very shy, so we study in a little alcove in the library where no one can see us. According to him, Salazar Slytherin built the Chamber of Secrets to contain some sort of monster that could be unleashed by his true heir and purge Hogwarts of all he deemed unfit to study magic. Anyone like me, really.”</p><p> </p><p>Ron snorted. "I always knew Salazar Slytherin was a twisted old loony, but starting all the blood prejudice nonsense? That’s just the crown jewel- I wouldn't be in his house if you paid me. Honestly, if the Sorting Hat had tried to put me in Slytherin, I'd've got the train straight back home.” </p><p> </p><p>Hermione nodded absently, and Harry didn't say anything. His stomach had just dropped unpleasantly. He’d never told his friends that the Sorting Hat had seriously considered putting him in Slytherin.</p><p> </p><p>“So the thing about ‘enemies of the Heir, beware’- does that mean Slytherin’s heir?”</p><p> </p><p>She nodded again. “That’s what we suppose. Of course, it could be anyone at school.”</p><p> </p><p>Harry remembered Justin’s odd behavior in the hallway, and his mood sank further. “I think some people think it’s me.”</p><p> </p><p>“Of course they would,” Ron said, shrugging. “They’re idiots.”</p><p> </p><p>Harry smiled at his friend’s reply. Ron always knew how to raise his mood. </p><p> </p><p>Lunch was coming up, so they trooped out of the library together, heading towards the Great Hall. On the way there, however, Harry stopped, peering down the corridor where Mrs. Norris had been found. It was deserted.</p><p> </p><p>"Can't hurt to have a poke around," said Harry, dropping his bag and getting to his hands and knees so that he could crawl along, searching for clues. Hermione and Ron followed suit.</p><p> </p><p>"Scorch marks!" he said. "Here - and here -"</p><p> </p><p>"Come and look at this!" said Hermione. "This is funny…"</p><p> </p><p>Harry got up and crossed to the window next to the message on the wall. Hermione was pointing at the topmost pane, where around twenty spiders were scuttling, apparently fighting to get through a small crack. A long, silvery thread was dangling like a rope, as though they had all climbed it in their hurry to get outside.</p><p> </p><p>"Have you ever seen spiders act like that?" Hermione asked wonderingly.</p><p> </p><p>"No," said Harry, "Have you, Ron?” No response. “Ron?"</p><p> </p><p>He looked over his shoulder. Ron was standing well back and seemed to be fighting the impulse to run.</p><p> </p><p>"What's up?" said Harry as the ginger pressed himself into the opposite wall like he wanted to pass through it.</p><p> </p><p>"I - don't - like - spiders," said Ron tensely.</p><p> </p><p>"I never knew that," said Hermione, looking at him in surprise. "You've used spiders in Potions loads of times.”</p><p> </p><p>"I don't mind them dead," said Ron, who was carefully looking anywhere but at the window. "I just don't like the way they move.”</p><p> </p><p>Hermione giggled.</p><p> </p><p>"It's not funny." His tone was fierce. "If you must know, when I was three, Fred turned my - my teddy bear into a great big filthy spider because I broke his toy broomstick. You wouldn't like them either if you'd been holding your bear and suddenly it had too many legs and... " He broke off, shuddering. Hermione was obviously still trying not to laugh. </p><p> </p><p>Feeling they had better get off the subject, Harry said, "Remember all that water on the floor? Where did that come from? Someone's mopped it up."</p><p> </p><p>"It was about here," said Ron, recovering himself to walk a few paces past Filch's chair and pointing. "Level with this door."</p><p> </p><p>He reached for the brass doorknob but suddenly withdrew his hand as though he'd been burned.</p><p> </p><p>"What's the matter?" said Harry.</p><p> </p><p>"Can't go in there," said Ron gruffly. "That's a girls' toilet."</p><p> </p><p>"Oh, Ron, there won't be anyone in there," said Hermione, standing up and coming over. "That's Moaning Myrtle's place. Come on, let's have a look."</p><p> </p><p>And ignoring the large OUT of ORDER sign, she opened the door.</p><p> </p><p>It was the gloomiest, most depressing bathroom Harry had ever set foot in. Under a large, cracked, and spotted mirror were a row of chipped sinks. The floor was damp and reflected the dull light given off by the stubs of a few candles, burning low in their holders; the wooden doors to the stalls were flaking and scratched and one of them was dangling off its hinges.</p><p> </p><p>Hermione put her fingers to her lips and set off toward the end stall.</p><p> </p><p>When she reached it she said, "Hello, Myrtle, how are you?"</p><p> </p><p>Harry and Ron went to look. Moaning Myrtle was floating above the tank of the toilet, picking a spot on her chin.</p><p> </p><p>"This is a girls' bathroom," she said, eyeing the boys suspiciously. "They're not girls."</p><p> </p><p>"No," Hermione agreed. "I just wanted to show them how er - nice it is in here."</p><p> </p><p>She waved vaguely at the dirty old mirror and the damp floor.</p><p> </p><p>"Ask her if she saw anything," Harry mouthed at Hermione.</p><p> </p><p>"What are you whispering?" said Myrtle, staring at him.</p><p> </p><p>"Nothing," said Harry quickly. "We wanted to ask -"</p><p> </p><p>"I wish people would stop talking behind my back!" said Myrtle, in a voice choked with tears. "I do have feelings, you know, even if I am dead -"</p><p> </p><p>"Myrtle, no one wants to upset you," said Hermione. "Harry only -"</p><p> </p><p>"No one wants to upset me! That's a good one!" howled Myrtle. "My life was nothing but misery at this place and now people come along ruining my death!"</p><p> </p><p>"We wanted to ask you if you've seen anything funny lately," said Hermione quickly. "Because a cat was attacked right outside your front door on Halloween."</p><p> </p><p>"Did you see anyone near here that night?" said Harry.</p><p> </p><p>"I wasn't paying attention," the ghost replied, still sniffling. “I felt absolutely <em> awful </em> for upsetting Draco, so I came in here to cry, but he followed and told me that it was alright, that he knew I hadn’t meant to bring it up. He’s always so understanding, you know.”</p><p> </p><p>Harry frowned. “What <em> is </em> wrong with him, Myrtle?”</p><p> </p><p>She glowered at him. “Why would I tell you?”</p><p> </p><p>“We’re worried for him, Myrtle.” Harry tried, softening his voice to what he hoped sounded like a that of a concerned friend. This was his chance to find out more about Malfoy’s weird behavior.</p><p> </p><p>“No you’re not! Draco’s told me about you- how he used to bully you last year and how he’s been trying to make peace and be left alone this year, but nooo, you’re always trying to follow him and find out what he’s <em> up to. </em>You think I’m going to betray the only person who’s ever been nice to me just to satisfy your curiosity? You’re horrible!” She let out a wail and rose above the toilet, turning a loop and diving in. Water sloshed over the rim, and the Gryffindors jumped back.</p><p> </p><p>“That went well.” Ron said.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. truth is i don't think it's your fault</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Agh this one's reallly long</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>They were caught leaving the bathrooms by none other than Percy Weasley, and Ron was still in a sour mood when they sat in the common room that evening, discussing the Heir of Slytherin.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Who can it be, though?" Hermione was saying, as though continuing a conversation they had just been having. "Who'd want to frighten all the Squibs and Muggle-borns out of Hogwarts?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Let's think," said Ron in mock puzzlement. "Who do we know who thinks Muggle-borns are scum?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He looked at Hermione, and she looked back, unconvinced.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"If you're talking about Malfoy -"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Of course I am!" said Ron. "He’s been acting sketchy all year, and come on- making friends with Moaning Myrtle? I bet he did it just so she would cover for him. Honestly, it’s either him or Nott. ‘You’ll be next, Mudbloods’, remember?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I get Nott, but Malfoy, the Heir of Slytherin?" said Hermione skeptically.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Look at his family," said Harry, closing his books, too. "The whole lot of them have been in Slytherin; he's always boasting about it. They could easily be Slytherin's descendants. His father's definitely evil enough.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"They could’ve had the key to the Chamber of Secrets for centuries!" said Ron. "Handing it down, father to son.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What about how sick he’s been looking?” ventured Hermione. “And he’s been… civil since school began. Maybe we shouldn’t jump to conclusions.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Maybe summoning the monster takes a lot of energy,” Ron countered. “And I bet that the whole ‘nice’ act is to keep himself from being suspected. What’s that thing you said one time- flying under the radar?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Maybe, but how do we prove it?" said Harry darkly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"There might be a way," Hermione said slowly, dropping her voice still further with a quick glance across the room at Percy. "Of course, it would be difficult. And dangerous, very dangerous. We'd be breaking about fifty school rules, I expect -"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"If, in a month or so, you feel like explaining, you will let us know, won't you?" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"All right," said Hermione coldly. "What we'd need to do is to get inside the Slytherin common room and ask Malfoy and Nott a few questions without them realizing it's us."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"But that's impossible," Harry said as Ron laughed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"No, it's not," she explained, tossing her mane of brown hair. "All we'd need would be some Polyjuice Potion."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"What's that?" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Snape mentioned it in class a few weeks ago -"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"D'you think we've got nothing better to do in Potions than listen to Snape?" muttered Ron.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"It transforms you into somebody else. Think about it! We could change into three of the Slytherins. No one would know it was us. Nott would probably tell us anything. He's probably boasting about it in the Slytherin common room right now, if only we could hear him."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"This Polyjuice stuff sounds a bit dodgy to me," said the red head, frowning. "What if we were stuck looking like three of the Slytherins forever?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"It wears off after a while," said Hermione, waving her hand impatiently. "But getting hold of the recipe will be very difficult. Snape said it was in a book called Moste Potente Potions and it's</span>
</p><p>
  <span>bound to be in the Restricted Section of the library."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was only one way to get out a book from the Restricted Section: you needed a signed note of permission from a teacher.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Hard to see why we'd want the book, really," Harry pointed out, "If we weren't going to try and make one of the potions."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I think," said Hermione, "that if we made it sound as though we were just interested in the theory, we might stand a chance.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Oh, come on, no teacher's going to fall for that," said Ron. "They'd have to be really thick…"</span>
</p><p> </p><p><br/>**</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As it happened, Lockhart had happily given over his signature, not even looking at the book they wanted. Half an hour later, they were huddled in a stall in Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom, poring over the page on Polyjuice Potion. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Right, so brewing times and the specified gathering times of certain ingredients all considered, we should be looking at the potion being ready by next month,” Hermione decided as she ran her finger over the slightly mildewy page.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ron spluttered. “But Malfoy could have attacked half the Muggleborns in the school by then!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He quailed under Hermione’s fierce glare. “Or Nott, I suppose…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They spent the remainder of the hour planning who would get what and where, and soon Hermione was peeping her head out of the bathroom to determine if the coast was clear. Once it was safe, the group of three happily made their way to dinner, and after that, bed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p><br/>**<br/><br/></p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Harry woke the next morning with no small amount of anxiety in his stomach. It was the first Quidditch game of the season- Gryffindor against Slytherin, and he was going up against the boy who might very well be the Heir of Slytherin. It was enough to give anyone a good deal of pre-game stress.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Breakfast, warmups, and changing seemed to fly by, and soon he found himself walking out onto the pitch to the cheers of three quarters of the school. (Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff were anxious to see Slytherin beaten as well, though the Slytherins in the crowd made their boos and</span>
</p><p>
  <span>hisses heard, too.) </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Madam Hooch, the Quidditch teacher, asked Flint and Wood to shake hands, which they did, giving each other threatening stares and gripping rather harder than was necessary.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"On my whistle," said Madam Hooch. "Three ... two ... one…"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With a roar from the crowd to speed them upward, the fourteen players rose toward the leaden sky. Harry flew higher than any of them, squinting around for the Snitch.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nott rose with him, flying a loop around him as though to show off the speed of his broom. Harry had just enough time to think that Nott's 'subtle' attempts to sabotage his morale would have had nothing on Malfoy's insulting jibes before a heavy black Bludger came pelting toward him; he avoided it so narrowly that he felt it ruffle his hair as it passed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Close one, Harry!" said George, streaking past him with his club in his hand, ready to knock the Bludger back toward a Slytherin. Harry saw him give the Bludger a powerful whack in the direction of Adrian Pucey, but the Bludger changed direction in midair and shot straight for Harry again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He dropped quickly to avoid it, and George managed to hit it hard towards Nott. Once again, the Bludger swerved like a boomerang and shot at Harry's head.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Harry put on a burst of speed and zoomed toward the other end of the pitch, but he could hear the Bludger whistling along behind him. What was going on? Bludgers never concentrated on one player like this; it was their job to try and unseat as many people as possible.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The other half of the Weasley twins was waiting for the Bludger by the goal posts. Harry ducked as Fred swung at the Bludger with all his might, knocking it far of course.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Gotcha!" Fred yelled happily, but it had come too soon; the Bludger pelted after Harry as if it were magnetically attracted to him, and he was forced to dart off again. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It had started to rain; Harry felt heavy drops fall onto his face, splattering onto his glasses. He didn't have a clue what was going on in the rest of the game until he heard Lee Jordan, who was commentating, say, "Slytherin leads, sixty points to zero-"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Slytherins' superior brooms were clearly doing their jobs, and meanwhile the mad Bludger was doing all it could to knock Harry out of the air. Fred and George were now flying so close to him on either side that he could see nothing at all except their flailing arms and had no chance to look for the Snitch, let alone catch it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Someone's - tampered - with - this - Bludger -" Fred grunted, swinging his bat with every word as it launched a new attack on the Seeker.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"We need time out," said George, trying to signal to Wood and stop the Bludger breaking Harry's nose at the same time.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Wood had obviously got the message; Madam Hooch's whistle rang out, and Harry, Fred, and George dived for the ground, still trying to avoid the mad Bludger.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"What's going on?" said Wood as the Gryffindor team huddled together, while Slytherins in the crowd jeered. "We're being flattened. Fred, George, where were you when that Bludger stopped Angelina scoring?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"We were twenty feet above her, stopping the other Bludger from murdering Harry, Oliver," said George angrily. "Someone's fixed it- it won't leave him alone. It hasn't gone for anyone else all game. The Slytherins must have done something to it."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"But the Bludgers have been locked in Madam Hooch's office since our last practice, and there was nothing wrong with them then!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Madam Hooch was walking toward them. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Over her shoulder, Harry could see the Slytherin team jeering and pointing in his direction.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Listen," said Harry as she came nearer and nearer, "With you two flying around me all the time the only way I'm going to catch the Snitch is if it flies up my sleeve. Go back to the rest of the team and let me deal with the rogue one."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Don't be thick," said Fred. "It'll take your head off."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Wood was looking from Harry to the Weasleys.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Oliver, this is insane," said Alicia Spinner angrily. "You can't let Harry deal with that thing on his own. Let's ask for an inquiry-"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"If we stop now, we'll have to forfeit the match!" exclaimed Harry. "And we're not losing to Slytherin just because of a crazy Bludger! Come on, Oliver, tell them to leave me alone!"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"This is all your fault," George said angrily to Wood, hands on his hips and strongly resembling his mother. "`Get the Snitch or die trying,' what a stupid thing to tell him -" Yep, he really sounded like Mrs. Weasley.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Madam Hooch had joined them.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Ready to resume play?" she asked Wood.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Captain looked at the determined look on Harry's face.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"All right," he said. "Fred, George, you heard Harry- leave him alone and let him deal with the Bludger on his own."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The rain was falling more heavily now. On Madam Hooch's whistle, Harry kicked hard into the air and heard the telltale whoosh of the Bludger behind him. He climbed higher and higher, going through every crazy move he could think of to get the ball off his back. Slightly dizzy, he nevertheless kept his eyes wide open; rain was speckling his glasses and ran up his nostrils as he hung upside down, avoiding another fierce dive from the Bludger. He could hear laughter from the crowd, but he really didn’t care. Bludgers were heavy and couldn’t change directions as fast as players, especially those on good brooms.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Harry began a kind of roller-coaster ride around the edges of the stadium, squinting through the silver sheets of rain to the Gryffindor goal posts, where Adrian Pucey was trying to get past</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wood.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A whistling in Harry's ear told him the Bludger had just missed him again; he turned right over and sped in the opposite direction.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You look like an idiot, Potter!" yelled Nott as Harry was forced to do a stupid kind of twirl in midair to dodge the Bludger, and he scoffed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s what you consider an insult, Nott? My owl could come up with better!” he cried before he had to flee, the Bludger trailing a few feet behind him. Then, glaring back at Nott in hatred, he saw it - the Golden Snitch. It was hovering inches above the other Seeker’s left ear - and Nott, busy laughing at Harry, hadn't seen it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>For an agonizing moment, Harry hung in midair, not daring to speed toward Nott in case he looked up and saw the Snitch.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>WHAM</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He had stayed still a second too long. The Bludger had hit him at last, smashing into his elbow, and Harry felt his arm break. Dimly, dazed by the searing pain in his arm, he slid sideways on his rain-drenched broom, one knee still crooked over it, his right arm dangling useless at his side - the Bludger came pelting back for a second attack, this time aiming at his face - Harry swerved out of the way, one idea firmly lodged in his numb brain: get to Nott. Through a haze of rain and pain he dived for the shimmering, sneering face below him and saw its eyes widen with fear: Nott thought Harry was attacking him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"What the -" he gasped, careening out of Harry's way.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Harry took his remaining hand off his broom and made a wild snatch; he felt his fingers close on the cold Snitch but was now only gripping the broom with his legs, and there was a yell from the crowd below as he headed straight for the ground, trying hard not to pass out.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With a splattering thud he hit the mud and rolled off his broom. His arm was hanging at a very strange angle; riddled with pain, he heard, as though from a distance, a good deal of whistling and shouting. He focused on the Snitch clutched in his good hand.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Aha," he said vaguely. "We've won."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And he fainted.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He came around, rain falling on his face, still lying on the field, with someone leaning over him. He saw a glitter of teeth.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Oh, no, not you," he moaned.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Doesn't know what he's saying," said Lockhart loudly to the anxious crowd of Gryffindors pressing around them. "Not to worry, Harry. I'm about to fix your arm."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"No!"said Harry. "I'll keep it like this, thanks-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He tried to sit up, but the pain was terrible. He heard a familiar clicking noise nearby.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I don't want a photo of this, Colin," he said loudly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Lie back, Harry," said Lockhart soothingly. "It's a simple charm I've used countless times -"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Why can't I just go to the hospital wing?" said Harry through clenched teeth.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"He should really, Professor," said a muddy Wood, who couldn't help grinning even though his Seeker was injured. "Great capture, Harry, really spectacular, your best yet, I’d say -"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Through the thicket of legs around him, Harry spotted Fred and George Weasley, wrestling the rogue Bludger into a box. It was still putting up a terrific fight.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Stand back," said Lockhart, who was rolling up his jade-green sleeves.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"No - don't -" said Harry weakly, but the Defense teacher was twirling his wand and a second later had directed it straight at Harry's arm.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A strange and unpleasant sensation started at Harry's shoulder and spread all the way down to his fingertips. It felt as though his arm was being deflated. He didn't dare look at what was happening. He had shut his eyes, his face turned away from his arm, but his worst fears were realized as the people above him gasped and Colin Creevey began clicking away madly. His arm didn't hurt anymore - nor did it feel remotely like an arm.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Ah," said Lockhart. "Yes. Well, that can sometimes happen. But the point is, the bones are no longer broken. That's the thing to bear in mind. So, Harry, just toddle up to the hospital wing - ah, Mr. Weasley, Miss Granger, would you escort him? - and Madam Pomfrey will be able to - er - tidy you up a bit."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As Harry got to his feet, he felt strangely lopsided. Taking a deep breath he looked down at his right side. What he saw nearly made him pass out again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Poking out of the end of his robes was what looked like a thick, flesh colored rubber glove. He tried to move his fingers. Nothing happened.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lockhart hadn't mended Harry's bones. He had removed them.</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>**</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Following the events of the Quidditch game, Harry had thought that his day couldn’t get much stranger. Of course, fate always wanted to prove him wrong, so here he was, talking to a house elf about the fact that the Chamber of Secrets had been opened before.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Who's opened it, Dobby? Who opened it last time?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Dobby can't, sir, Dobby can't, Dobby mustn't tell!" squealed the elf. "Go home, Harry Potter, go home!"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I'm not going anywhere!" said Harry fiercely. "One of my best friends is Muggle-born; she'll be first in line if the Chamber really has been opened -"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Harry Potter risks his own life for his friends!" moaned Dobby in a kind of miserable ecstasy. "So noble! So valiant! But he must save himself, he must, Harry Potter must not -"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The elf suddenly froze, his bat ears quivering. Harry heard it, too. There were footsteps coming down the passageway outside.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Dobby must go!" breathed the elf, terrified. There was a loud crack, and Harry's fist, which had been balled in Dobby’s pillowcase, was suddenly clenched on thin air. He slumped back into bed, his eyes on the dark doorway to the hospital wing as the footsteps drew nearer.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The next moment, Dumbledore was backing into the dormitory, wearing a long woolly dressing gown and a nightcap. He was carrying one end of what looked like a statue. Professor McGonagall appeared a second later, carrying its feet. Together, they heaved it onto a bed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Get Madam Pomfrey," whispered Dumbledore, and Professor McGonagall hurried past the end of Harry's bed out of sight. Harry lay quite still, pretending to be asleep. He heard urgent voices, and Professor McGonagall soon swept back into view, closely followed by Madam Pomfrey, who was pulling a cardigan on over her nightdress.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was a sharp intake of breath.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"What happened?" Madam Pomfrey whispered to Dumbledore, bending over the statue on the bed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Another attack," said Dumbledore. "Minerva found him on the stairs.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"There was a bunch of grapes next to him," said Professor McGonagall. "We think he was trying to sneak up here to visit Potter."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Harry's stomach gave a horrible lurch. Slowly and carefully, he raised himself a few inches so he could look at the statue on the bed. A ray of moonlight lay across its staring face.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was Colin Creevey. His eyes were wide and his hands were stuck up in front of him, holding his camera.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Petrified?" whispered Madam Pomfrey.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Yes." McGonagall sounded more fragile than Harry had ever heard her. "But I shudder to think ... If Albus hadn't been on the way downstairs for hot chocolate - who knows what might have -"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Now, now, Professor McGonagall,” Dumbledore broke in, but even he sounded strained. “It is not well to worry over things that could have been, but rather to confront those that have. I must admit that I wish the private room were not currently occupied; I am loath to start a panic among the students.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Madam Pomfrey sounded defensive when she replied. “You know as well as I that the boy needs to be under constant supervision, Albus. I’ve already had a few times that I wasn’t sure if he’d make it or not- if he’s to even have a chance, he needs to stay here.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t worry, Poppy, I’m sure Albus was simply thinking out loud.” Professor McGonagall’s voice was pointed. “He knows the severity of CRGS.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Harry didn’t know what CRGS was, and the trouble of the mystery student seemed trivial when Dumbledore reached out and opened the back of Colin’s camera, releasing the acrid stench of burnt plastic into the room. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ah…” Dumbledore said, ever serene voice tense. “So the Chamber of Secrets truly is open once again.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Madam Pomfrey clapped a hand to her mouth. Professor McGonagall stared at Dumbledore. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"But, Albus... surely... who?" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"The question is not who, professor," said Dumbledore, his eyes on Colin. "The question is, how..." And from what Harry could see of Professor McGonagall's shadowy face, she didn't understand this any better than he did.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. truth is i don't know much (about you or me)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>I hardcore headcanon Harry as half-Indian.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The next week was a blur of plans and preparations. Malfoy and Nott were both staying over hols (the latter in blatant conflict with truth eight: Malfoy was simultaneously a mummy's boy and a daddy's boy), so the trio decided that they’d use the potion then. A Filibuster Firework into a Swelling Solution during Potions had provided an ample distraction for Hermione to get the ingredients they needed from Snape’s cabinet, though Harry did think it odd how horrified the professor looked when Malfoy got hit with a face of it. (It became clear a moment later: no one else saw in the resulting chaos, but the boy hadn’t had the strength to hold his head up and had collapsed onto the floor.) </p><p> </p><p>Hermione had stirred in the stolen ingredients and happily told them that the potion would be ready in two weeks- just in time for Christmas. </p><p> </p><p>The following Saturday, the three friends were crossing the entrance hall when a call stopped them. </p><p> </p><p>“Hey Harry, Ron, Hermione!” It was Dean Thomas, waving to them from the crowd around the hall’s message board. “Come check this out!”<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>They made their way over, unable to read the parchment from over the heads of the other students. It didn’t matter, anyway; Seamus began to fill them in the moment they arrived.</p><p> </p><p>"They're starting a Dueling Club! First meeting tonight! I wouldn't mind dueling lessons; they might come in handy one of these days…”</p><p> </p><p>"What, you reckon Slytherin's monster can duel?" said Ron, but he, too, had an excited glint in his eyes.</p><p> </p><p>"Could be useful," he said to the other two as they went into dinner. "Shall we go?" </p><p> </p><p>Harry and Hermione were all for it, so at eight o'clock that evening they hurried back to the Great Hall. </p><p> </p><p>The long dining tables had vanished and a golden stage had appeared along one wall, lit by thousands of candles floating overhead. The ceiling was velvety black once more and most of the school seemed to be packed beneath it, all carrying their wands and looking excited.</p><p> </p><p>“Who do you suppose is teaching us?” Harry asked as they wormed their way through the crowd, trying to find a good spot. </p><p> </p><p>“Flitwick maybe?” Hermione suggested. “He was a dueling champion in his youth, actually.”</p><p> </p><p>“Huh- Flitwick? Never would have guessed. Anyway, I’m just glad it’s not-” Harry cut off with a groan when Gilderoy Lockhart stepped onto the stage, dressed in horrifying robes of gold lame. Behind him walked Snape, almost refreshingly dressed in his usual black.</p><p> </p><p>Lockhart waved an arm for silence and called ' "Gather round, gather round! Can everyone see me? Can you all hear me? Excellent! Now, Professor Dumbledore has granted me permission to start this little dueling club, to train you all in case you ever need to defend yourselves as I myself have done on countless occasions - for full details, see my published works.” He gave an overstated wink, and Harry rolled his eyes. "Let me introduce my assistant, Professor Snape-” Merlin, did this man have a death wish? “He tells me he knows a tiny little bit about</p><p>dueling himself and has sportingly agreed to help me with a short demonstration before we begin. Now, I don't want any of you youngsters to worry - you'll still have your Potions master when I'm through with him, never fear!"</p><p> </p><p>"Never thought I’d say it, but I’m rooting for Snape!" Ron muttered in Harry's ear.</p><p> </p><p>Snape's upper lip was curling. Harry wondered why Lockhart was still smiling; if the Potions Master had been looking at him like that he'd have been running as fast as he could in the opposite direction.</p><p> </p><p>The two professors turned to face each other and bowed; at least, Lockhart did, with much twirling of his hands, whereas Snape jerked his head irritably. Then they raised their wands like swords in front of them.</p><p> </p><p>"As you see, we are holding our wands in the accepted combative position," Lockhart told the silent crowd. "On the count of three, we will cast our first spells. Neither of us will be aiming to kill, of course."</p><p> </p><p>"I wouldn't bet on that," Harry murmured, watching Snape baring his teeth.</p><p> </p><p>"One - two - three -"</p><p> </p><p>Both of them swung their wands above their heads and pointed them at their opponent; Snape cried: "Expelliarmus!" There was a dazzling flash of scarlet light, and Lockhart was blasted off his feet: He flew backward off the stage, smashed into the wall, and slid down it to sprawl on the floor.</p><p><br/>
The majority of the hall, including Harry and Ron, cheered. Hermione was dancing on tiptoes. "Do you think he's all right?" she squealed through her fingers.</p><p> </p><p>"Who cares?" Ron asked. </p><p> </p><p>Lockhart was getting unsteadily to his feet. His hat had fallen off and his wavy hair was standing on end.</p><p> </p><p>"Well, there you have it!" he said, tottering back onto the platform. "That was a Disarming Charm - as you see, I've lost my wand - ah, thank you, Miss Brown - yes, an excellent idea to show them that, Professor Snape, but if you don't mind my saying so, it was very obvious what you were about to do. If I had wanted to stop you it would have been only too easy - however, I felt it would be instructive to let them see . . ."</p><p> </p><p>Snape was looking murderous. Lockhart finally seemed to notice, because he quailed and changed the subject. “A-anyway, enough of <em> us </em> demonstrating! Let’s get a student pair up here! What about… Mr. Harry Potter, and- oh who’s that premier Potions student you’re always going on about- oh yes- Mr. Draco Malfoy!”</p><p> </p><p>Harry spun around and scanned the crowd. He hadn’t realized that Malfoy was here. </p><p> </p><p>His eyes eventually lit on the familiar head of blonde hair. Malfoy was mostly hidden by the crowd near the back of the hall, and when his name had been called out, he’d gone entirely stiff.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m afraid that won’t be possible,” Snape drawled, but something was off about it. He almost sounded worried. “Mr. Malfoy has been practicing dueling since he was old enough to hold a wand; he’d make mincemeat out of Mr. Potter before they’d even begun.” </p><p> </p><p>The blonde relaxed a little, yet again in defiance of truth five (Malfoy would show Harry up whenever possible), and Lockhart smiled sportingly. “Oh, we certainly can’t have that! Who would you recommend instead?”</p><p> </p><p>Cold, dark eyes glittered. “What about Mr. Nott?”</p><p> </p><p>“Excellent, excellent!” Lockhart cried, clapping his hands. “Capital choice, Professor Snape! Mr. Nott, if you would come up here…”</p><p> </p><p>He herded Harry and Nott into the centre of the room, gesturing for Snape to counsel Nott while he took Harry. </p><p> </p><p>"Now, Harry," said Lockhart. "When Theodore points his wand at you, you do this." </p><p> </p><p>He raised his own wand, attempted a complicated sort of wiggling action, and dropped it. </p><p> </p><p>Snape smirked as Lockhart quickly picked it up, saying, "Whoops -my wand is a little overexcited -" </p><p> </p><p>The bat-like professor moved closer to Nott, bent down, and whispered something in his ear. Nott smirked, too. </p><p> </p><p>Harry looked up nervously at Lockhart and said, "Professor, could you show me that blocking thing again?" </p><p> </p><p>Lockhart cuffed Harry merrily on the shoulder. "Just do what I did, Harry!" </p><p> </p><p>"What, drop my wand?" </p><p> </p><p>But Lockhart wasn't listening. "Three - two - one - go!" he shouted. </p><p> </p><p>Nott raised his wand quickly and bellowed, "Serpensortia!" </p><p> </p><p>The end of his wand exploded. Harry watched, aghast, as a long black snake shot out of it, fell heavily onto the floor between them, and raised itself, ready to strike. There were screams as the crowd backed swiftly away, clearing the floor. </p><p> </p><p>"Don't move, Potter," said Snape lazily, clearly enjoying the sight of Harry standing motionless, eye to eye with the angry snake. "I'll get rid of it-”</p><p> </p><p>"Allow me!" shouted Lockhart. He brandished his wand at the snake and there was a loud bang; the snake, instead of vanishing, flew ten feet into the air and fell back to the floor with a loud smack. </p><p> </p><p>Enraged, hissing furiously, it slithered straight toward Justin Finch-Fletchley and raised itself again, fangs exposed, poised to strike. </p><p> </p><p>Harry wasn't sure what made him do it. He wasn't even aware of deciding to do it. All he knew was that his legs were carrying him forward as though he was on casters and that he had shouted stupidly at the snake, "Leave him alone!" </p><p> </p><p>And miraculously - inexplicably - the snake slumped to the floor, docile as a thick, black garden hose, its eyes now on Harry. </p><p> </p><p>Harry felt the fear drain out of him. He knew the snake wouldn't attack anyone now, though how he knew it, he couldn't have explained. He looked up at Justin, grinning, expecting to see Justin looking relieved, or puzzled, or even grateful - but certainly not angry and scared. </p><p> </p><p>"What do you think you're playing at?" he shouted, and before Harry could say anything, the Hufflepuff had turned and stormed out of the hall. </p><p> </p><p>Snape stepped forward, waved his wand, and the snake vanished in a small puff of black smoke. He, too, was looking at Harry in an unexpected way: It was a shrewd and calculating look, and it made him uncomfortable. He was also dimly aware of an ominous muttering all around the walls. </p><p> </p><p>There was a tug on the back of his robes. "Come on," said Ron’s voice in his ear. "Move - come on -" </p><p> </p><p>Ron steered him out of the hall, Hermione hurrying alongside them. As they went through the doors, the people on either side drew away as though they were frightened of catching something. </p><p> </p><p>Harry didn't have a clue what was going on, and neither Ron nor Hermione explained anything as they dragged him through the halls toward Gryffindor Tower. </p><p> </p><p>Once they were inside, they plunked him into a chair and stared at him. </p><p> </p><p>Ron spoke first. “Why didn’t you tell us that you’re a Parselmouth?”</p><p> </p><p>"I'm a what?" said Harry blankly. This felt oddly familiar...</p><p> </p><p>“A Parselmouth!" The ginger ran a hand through his hair, stress evident on his face."You can talk to snakes!"</p><p> </p><p>"I know," said Harry. "I mean, that's only the second time I've ever done it. I accidentally set a boa constrictor on my cousin Dudley at the zoo once - long story - but it was telling me it had never seen Brazil and I sort of set it free without meaning to that was before I knew I was a wizard -"</p><p> </p><p>"A boa constrictor told you it had never seen Brazil?" Ron repeated faintly.</p><p> </p><p>"So?" said Harry. "I bet loads of people here can do it."</p><p> </p><p>"Oh, no they can't," Hermione explained. "It's not a very common gift. Harry, this is bad."</p><p> </p><p>"What's bad?" Harry was starting to feel quite angry. "What's wrong with everyone? Listen, if I hadn't told that snake not to attack Justin -"</p><p> </p><p>"Oh, that's what you said to it?"</p><p> </p><p>"What d'you mean? You were there - you heard me -"</p><p> </p><p>"I heard you speaking Parseltongue," said Ron. "Snake language. You could have been saying anything - no wonder Justin panicked, you sounded like you were egging the snake on or something - it was creepy, you know -"</p><p> </p><p>Harry gaped at him.</p><p> </p><p>"I spoke a different language? But - I didn't realize - how can I speak a language without knowing I can speak it?"</p><p> </p><p>Ron shook his head. Both he and Hermione were looking as though someone had died. Harry couldn't see what was so terrible.</p><p> </p><p>"D'you want to tell me what's wrong with stopping a massive snake biting off Justin's head?" he said. "What does it matter how I did it as long as Justin doesn't have to join the Headless Hunt?"</p><p> </p><p>"It matters," said Hermione, speaking at last in a hushed voice, "Because being able to talk to snakes was what Salazar Slytherin was famous for. That's why the symbol of Slytherin House is a serpent."</p><p> </p><p>Harry's mouth fell open.</p><p> </p><p>"Exactly," said Ron. "And now the whole school's going to think you're his great-great-great-great-grandson or something -"</p><p> </p><p>"But I'm not evil," said Harry, with a panic he couldn't quite explain.</p><p> </p><p>“We know you’re not, Harry,” Hermione assured him. “But it may cause people to think that you really are some kind of dark wizard. Slytherin lived over a thousand years ago- for all we know, you two could be related.”</p><p> </p><p>“That’s not why he’s a Parselmouth, you know.” Another voice came from over her shoulder. </p><p> </p><p>Harry looked around Ron to see Parvati Patil standing behind them, smile toying at her lips. </p><p> </p><p>“What do you mean?” Harry asked, still dazed from the new knowledge. </p><p> </p><p>“How much do you know about your family history?”</p><p> </p><p>Harry blushed. Growing up with the Dursleys, he’d been kept far away from all knowledge of his father’s family. He knew that the Potters were originally from India, but not much else. “Erm… nothing, really. I’ve wanted to learn.”</p><p> </p><p>“I can lend you a book about Indian pureblood families if you’d like to know more,” she said matter-of-factly. “But the big thing is that the Potters have been one of the most prodigious lines when it comes to producing Parselmouths.”</p><p> </p><p>Hermione smacked a hand to her forehead. “Of course! It’s considered a great ability to be able to speak to snakes, isn’t it?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes,” Parvati replied with a smile. “It’s a great matter of pride among families.” Her tone turned dark. “Wizards like Voldemort and Slytherin changed that, claiming Parseltongue as a mark of blood purity and dark ability, stealing a part of our culture and corrupting it.”</p><p> </p><p>“Wait,” Harry said, leaning forward on his hands. “Did my dad…”</p><p> </p><p>She shook her head. “I don’t think so, but I’ll give you the book if you want to find out who in your family could.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’d like that, thanks.”</p><p> </p><p>Then, as if on cue, the rest of the Gryffindors flooded into the room, and Parvati melted into the crowd. Harry stared after her in wonderment, her parting words floating in his ear.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “You’re not a dark wizard, Harry. You’re a Potter.” </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Parvati be like: you're a Potter, Harry</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. truth is i'm starting to connect the dots</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Canon is truly diverging a bit now! More coming soon</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>By morning, Harry had decided to find Justin Finch-Fletchley and tell him about what he’d actually done to the snake. Anyone with eyes and half a brain should have been able to figure it out, but he’d learned the year before to never trust the Hogwarts rumor mill to see sense.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Unfortunately, the snow had fallen so thick the next day that Herbology was canceled, effectively destroying his plan to explain himself to Justin over a pot of fertilizer. Harry fretted about this next to the fire in the Gryffindor common room, while Ron and Hermione used their time off to play a game of wizard chess.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh for Heaven’s sake, Harry,” Hermione sighed. “Just go and find Justin, if it’s so important to you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He heeded her advice (because one always heeded Hermione’s advice) and went off in search of the Hufflepuff boy. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Unfortunately, it seemed that the entirety of the yellow house had jumped on the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Harry Potter’s an evil wizard </span>
  </em>
  <span>train, if his interaction with Ernie Macmillan was anything to go by. Thoroughly discouraged, he was wandering back through the hallways towards Gryffindor Tower when he caught sight of something he’d been hoping to see since school began. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Malfoy. On his own. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Harry cursed himself for forgetting his invisibility cloak as he began to tail the boy, ducking behind statues and hushing portraits that might give him away. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Where are you headed, Malfoy…” he muttered under his breath as the blonde limped along the corridors towards parts unknown. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The answer to the question became clearer as Malfoy continued towards the clock tower before turning down the corridor leading away from it- the corridor that ended with the double doors of the Hospital Wing. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was nowhere to hide in the hallway, so Harry watched around the corner until the Slytherin slipped inside before following, peeking through the crack in the door.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Inside, Malfoy was sitting on one of the hospital beds with Pomfrey fussing over him, running diagnostic spells as she gently reprimanded him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How many times must I tell you, Draco! You can send an elf or one of your friends to get you things from the library, or even ask me and I can summon what you want! You shouldn’t tire yourself out by walking clear across the castle; what if something had happened? You’re already exerting yourself far too much during the week, attending classes-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But I’m not attending most of them, Poppy!” Malfoy’s reply was thin and didn’t contain enough energy to be counted as a protest. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re attending four, and that’s four too many! And I won’t even mention how much you’re exhausting yourself the rest of the time!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Reading’s hardly exhausting…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Harry could feel her aggravation through the door. “It is when you insist on reading enough to keep up with all of your other classes!” Her tone shifted then, becoming soft and almost motherly. “Draco, you’re sick, and you need to start taking care of yourself. You’re a smart boy, and I know that you’re going to go on to do great things, but you can’t do anything if you’re dead.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Dead?!</span>
  </em>
  <span> Harry gasped and clapped a hand over his mouth. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Malfoy was dying?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Inside, Malfoy sighed. “I’m not going to stop reading and going to classes, but I promise from now on I’ll only go to the library to study… I’ll get books by other means.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>This apparently satisfied Madam Pomfrey, and she wrapped up her tests. “I suppose I can live with that… provided that you sleep until lunch. I’ll bring you your medications when it’s time.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Malfoy stood up from the examination bed and limped away, disappearing through a small door next to the one to Madam Pomfrey’s office. Harry was left standing in the corridor outside, speechless.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Was that the private room that Dumbledore had mentioned the night that Colin had been petrified? Did that mean that Malfoy was the boy who they’d been talking about- the one who had already had a few brushes with death and needed constant supervision? The one who had- Harry racked his brain but came up empty. McGonagall had said some four letter combination… something that started with a C, maybe? Or a D?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was all a bit too much to take in. Harry turned and went back down the corridor, intent on talking to someone who knew better.</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>However, he wasn’t able to speak to Hermione until a few hours later, thanks to the discovery of Justin Finch-Fletchley and Nearly-Headless Nick and his subsequent interrogation in Dumbledore’s office. And when he did finally have a chance to spill out all of his concerns in the empty common room that night, he was far too tired to do so.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Malfoy wasn’t dead yet, he supposed as he nodded off to Ron’s lecture on a recent Chudley Cannons game. So he could wait until morning to think about it…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Morning, of course, brought its own problems.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The nervousness in the school turned into outright panic, holiday sign up sheets filling up at the speed of light as students jumped to leave the school. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"At this rate, we'll be the only ones left," Ron told Harry and Hermione. "Us, Malfoy, Nott, Crabbe, and Goyle. What a jolly holiday it's going to be."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Crabbe and Goyle, who had taken to following Nott around now that Malfoy was gone most of the time, had signed up to stay over the holidays, too. But Harry was glad that most people were leaving. He was tired of people skirting around him in the corridors, as though he was about to sprout fangs or spit poison; tired of all the muttering, pointing, and hissing as he passed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Fred and George, of course, found all this very funny. They went out of their way to march ahead of Harry down the corridors, shouting rubbish like"Make way for the Heir of Slytherin, seriously evil wizard coming through!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Percy was deeply disapproving of this behavior.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"It is not a laughing matter," he said coldly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Oh, get out of the way, Percy," said Fred. "Harry's in a hurry."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Yeah, he's off to the Chamber of Secrets for a cup of tea with his fanged servant," said George, chortling.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ginny didn't find it amusing either.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Oh, don't," she wailed every time Fred asked Harry loudly who he was planning to attack next, or when George pretended to ward Harry off with a large clove of garlic when they met.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Harry didn't mind; it made him feel better that the Weasley twins, masters of all things ridiculous, thought the idea of his being Slytherin's heir was quite ludicrous.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But their antics seemed to be aggravating Theodore Nott, who looked increasingly sour each time he saw them at it. Malfoy, on the other hand, was making himself even scarcer.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"It's because he’s sneaking off to the Chamber every chance he gets,” Ron claimed during Charms. “Bet he’s skipping class to go hang out with his little friend, too.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Harry shifted awkwardly as he practiced his Point Me charm. He hadn’t told Ron and Hermione what he knew about Malfoy yet. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, we’ll know for sure in a few days,” Hermione said, looking as awkward as Harry felt. He suspected that she knew something about Malfoy already. “I added the lacewing flies this morning- the potion’s almost finished.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. truth is i'm coming to understand more and more</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The potion was finally ready, auspiciously enough, on Christmas. Harry went through the day in a daze, balancing excitement for the feast with anxiety for what would come after. When evening finally arrived, he forgot his worries because no one, not even someone dreading taking Polyjuice Potion later, could fail to enjoy Christmas dinner at Hogwarts.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Great Hall looked magnificent. Not only were there a dozen frost-covered Christmas trees and thick streamers of holly and mistletoe crisscrossing the ceiling, but enchanted snow was falling, warm and dry, from the ceiling. Dumbledore led them in a few of his favorite carols, Hagrid booming more and more loudly with every goblet of eggnog he consumed. Percy, who hadn't noticed that Fred had bewitched his prefect badge so that it now read "Pinhead," kept asking them all what they were sniggering at. Harry couldn’t be bothered to care about Nott’s subpar insults or Malfoy’s conspicuous absence. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Pudding came and went, and Hermione was soon dragging them both out of their chairs and out of the Great Hall. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We still need- come </span>
  <em>
    <span>on</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Ronald!- hairs from the people that you’re going to change into,” she explained as they made it into the Entrance Hall. “You’ll be stealing hairs from Crabbe and Goyle; they follow Nott around like really ugly ducklings. If he knows something, he’ll tell them.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But how do we get the hairs?” Ron asked. “It’s not like we can just walk up to them and ask.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She got an evil glint in her eye, and Harry felt a twinge of dread. “I’ve got it all worked out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>A pair of sleeping draft laced cakes later, Crabbe and Goyle were locked up in a cabinet, and Harry and Ron were triumphantly showing Hermione their bounty. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, excellent! I got mine off of Millicent when she passed me in the hallway a few weeks ago, so we’re all set.” She ushered them into the stall and dipped a ladle into the mud-like potion, portioning out three cups of disgusting looking ooze. “Right, just put the hairs in…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The foul potion hissed and bubbled madly, each cup’s contents turning its own horribly unappetizing color. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Hang on," said Harry as Ron and Hermione reached for their glasses. "We'd better not all drink them in here. Once we turn into Crabbe and Goyle we won't fit. And Millicent Bulstrode's no pixie either…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Good thinking, mate.” Ron reached over and unlocked the door. “We'll take separate stalls."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Careful not to spill a drop of his Polyjuice Potion, Harry slipped into the middle stall.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Ready?" he called.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Ready," came Ron's and Hermione's voices.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"One - two - three -"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Pinching his nose, Harry drank the potion down in two large gulps. It tasted like overcooked cabbage.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Immediately, his insides started writhing as though he'd just swallowed live snakes - doubled up, he wondered whether he was going to be sick - then a burning sensation spread rapidly from his stomach to the very ends of his fingers and toes - next, bringing him gasping to all fours, came a horrible melting feeling, as the skin all over his body bubbled like hot wax - and before his eyes, his hands began to grow, the fingers thickened, the nails broadened, the knuckles were bulging like bolts -his shoulders stretched painfully and a prickling on his forehead told him that hair was creeping down toward his eyebrows - his robes ripped as his chest expanded like a barrel bursting its hoops - his feet were agony in shoes four sizes too small-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As suddenly as it had started, everything stopped. Harry lay facedown on the stone-cold floor, listening to Myrtle gurgling morosely in the end toilet. With difficulty, he kicked off his shoes and stood up. So this was what it felt like, being Goyle. His large hand trembling, he pulled off his old robes, which were hanging a foot above his ankles, pulled on the spare ones, and laced up Goyle's boatlike shoes. He reached up to brush his hair out of his eyes and met only the short growth of wiry bristles, low on his forehead. Then he realized that his glasses were clouding his eyes because Goyle obviously didn't need them - he took them off and called, "Are you two okay?" Goyle's low rasp of a voice issued from his mouth.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Yeah," came the deep grunt of Crabbe from his right.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Harry unlocked his door and stepped in front of the cracked mirror. Goyle stared back at him out of dull, deepset eyes. Harry scratched his ear. So did Goyle.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ron's door opened. They stared at each other. Except that he looked pale and shocked, Ron was indistinguishable from Crabbe, from the pudding-bowl haircut to the long, gorilla arms.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"This is unbelievable," said Ron, approaching the mirror and prodding Crabbe's flat nose. "Unbelievable. "</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"We'd better get going," Harry decided, loosening the watch that was cutting into Goyle's thick wrist. "We've still got to find out where the Slytherin common room is. I only hope we can find </span>
  <span>someone to follow..."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ron, who had been gazing at Harry, said, "You don't know how bizarre it is to see Goyle thinking." He banged on Hermione's door. "C'mon, we need to go -"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A high-pitched voice answered him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I - I don't think I'm going to come after all. You go on without me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Hermione, we know Millicent Bulstrode's ugly, no one's going to know it's you -"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"No - really - I don't think I'll come. You two hurry up, you’re wasting time.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Harry looked at Ron, bewildered.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"That looks more like Goyle," said Ron, nodding in approval. "That's how he looks every time a teacher asks him a question."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Hermione, are you okay?" said Harry through the door.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Fine - I'm fine - go on -"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Harry looked at his watch. Five of their precious sixty minutes had already passed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"We'll meet you back here, all right?" he said.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The two boys opened the door of the bathroom carefully, checked that the coast was clear, and set off.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Don't swing your arms like that," Harry muttered to Ron.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Eh?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Crabbe holds them sort of stiff . . . ."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"How's this?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Yeah, that's better . . . ."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They went down the marble staircase. All they needed now was a Slytherin that they could follow to the common room, but there was nobody around.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Any ideas?" muttered Harry.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"The Slytherins always come up to breakfast from over there," said Ron, nodding at the entrance to the dungeons. The words had barely left his mouth when a girl with long, curly hair emerged from the entrance.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Excuse me," said Ron, hurrying up to her. "We've forgotten the way to our common room."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I beg your pardon?" replied the girl stiffly. "</span>
  <em>
    <span>Our</span>
  </em>
  <span> common room? I'm a Ravenclaw.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She walked away, looking suspiciously back at them.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Harry and Ron hurried down the stone steps into the darkness, their footsteps echoing particularly loudly as Crabbe and Goyle's huge feet hit the floor, feeling that this wasn't going to be as easy as they had hoped.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The labyrinthine passages were deserted. They walked deeper and deeper under the school, constantly checking their watches to see how much time they had left. After a quarter of an hour, just when they were getting desperate, they heard footsteps ahead.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Ha!" said Ron excitedly. "There's one of them now!"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The figure was emerging from a side room. As they hurried nearer, however, their hearts sank. It wasn't a Slytherin; it was Percy.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"What're you doing down here?" said Ron in surprise.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Percy looked affronted.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"That," he said stiffly, "is none of your business. It's Crabbe, isn't it?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Wh - oh, yeah," said Ron.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Well, get off to your dormitories," the older Weasley replied stiffly. "It's not safe to </span>
  <span>go wandering around dark corridors these days."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You are," Ron pointed out.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I," said Percy, drawing himself up, "am a prefect. Nothing's about to attack me."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A voice suddenly echoed behind Harry and Ron. Theodore Nott was strolling toward them, and for the first time in his life, Harry was pleased to see him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"There you are," he drawled, looking at them. "Have you two been pigging out in the Great Hall all this time? I've been looking for you; I want to show you something really funny."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nott glanced witheringly at Percy. "And what're you doing down here, Weasley?" he sneered.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Percy looked outraged.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You want to show a bit more respect to a school prefect!" he said. "I don't like your attitude!"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nott sneered and motioned for Harry and Ron to follow him. Harry almost said something apologetic to Percy but caught himself just in time. The two Gryffindors-turned-Slytherins hurried after Nott, who said as they turned into the next passage, "That Peter Weasley -"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Percy," Ron corrected him automatically.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Whatever," said Nott. "I've noticed him sneaking around a lot lately. And I bet I know what he's up to. He thinks he's going to catch Slytherin's heir single-handed." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He gave a short, derisive laugh. Harry and Ron exchanged excited looks.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nott paused by a stretch of bare, damp stone wall.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"What's the new password again?" he said to Harry.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Er -" said Harry.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Oh, yeah- pure-blood!" said Nott, not listening, and a stone door concealed in the wall slid open. He marched through it, and Harry and Ron followed him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Slytherin common room was a long, low underground room with rough stone walls and ceiling from which round, greenish lamps were hanging on chains. A fire was crackling under an elaborately carved mantelpiece ahead of them, and several students were silhouetted around it in high-backed chairs.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Wait here," said Nott to Harry and Ron, motioning them to a pair of empty chairs set back from the fire. "I'll go and get what my father's just sent it to me -"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Wondering what Nott was going to show them, Harry and Ron sat down, doing their best to look at home.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The sour faced boy came back a minute later, holding what looked like a newspaper clipping. He thrust it under Ron's nose.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"That'll give you a laugh," he said.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Harry saw Ron's eyes widen in shock. He read the clipping quickly, gave a very forced laugh, and handed it to Harry.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was an article about a Ministry inquiry into Mr. Weasley, featuring a statement from Malfoy Sr. about how Ron’s dad should be sacked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Well?" said Nott impatiently as Harry handed the clipping back to him. "Don't you think it's funny?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Ha, ha," said Harry bleakly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Arthur Weasley loves Muggles so much he should snap his wand in half and go and join them," said Nott scornfully. "You'd never know the Weasleys were pure-bloods, the way they behave."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ron's - or rather, Crabbe's - face was contorted with fury.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"What's up with you, Crabbe?" snapped Nott.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Stomachache," Ron grunted.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Well, go up to the hospital wing and give my worst to Malfoy and the Mudbloods,” the Slytherin replied, snickering. “You know, I’m surprised that the Daily Prophet hasn’t reported on the attacks yet. Dumbledore’s probably keeping it quiet, the Muggle-loving old coot. A decent headmaster would never have let scum like </span>
  <em>
    <span>Creevey</span>
  </em>
  <span> into Hogwarts.” Nott’s voice became squeaky and he started taking pictures with an imaginary camera in a cruel but accurate impression of Colin: "`Potter, can I have your picture, Potter? Can I have your autograph? Can I lick your shoes, please, Potter?"'</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He dropped his hands and looked at Harry and Ron.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"What's the matter with you two?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Far too late, Harry and Ron forced themselves to laugh, but Nott seemed satisfied. Perhaps Crabbe and Goyle were always slow on the uptake.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Saint Potter, the Mudbloods' friend. He's another one with no proper wizard feeling, or he wouldn't go around with that jumped up Mudblood Granger. And people think </span>
  <em>
    <span>he's </span>
  </em>
  <span>Slytherin's heir!"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Harry and Ron waited with bated breath: Nott was surely seconds away from telling them it was him, but then-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I wish I knew who it is," said Nott petulantly. "I could help them."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You must have some idea, though!” Harry insisted.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Ron chimed in. “What about Malfoy?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nott snorted. “Oh don’t make me laugh, Crabbe. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Malfoy? </span>
  </em>
  <span>He’s too sickly to order around a beast more dangerous than a flobberworm right now! I mean, have you seen him? No class, no meals, doesn’t even stay in the common room? He’s hardly even a Slytherin!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He apparently didn’t notice (or was perfectly used to) the dumbfounded looks on their faces, because he plowed right on. “But I do know one thing - last time the Chamber of Secrets was opened, a Mudblood died. So I bet it's a matter of time before one of them's killed this time... I hope it's Granger.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ron was clenching Crabbe's gigantic fists. Feeling that it would be a bit of a giveaway if Ron punched Nott, Harry shot him a warning look and said, "D'you know if the person who opened the Chamber last time was caught?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Oh, yeah ... whoever it was was expelled," said the boy. "They're probably still in Azkaban."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Azkaban?" Nott might as well be speaking in code.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Azkaban - the prison, Goyle?" The Slytherin replied, looking at him in disbelief "You really must be one of the stupidest people on this planet."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He shifted restlessly in his chair and said, "Father says to keep my head down and let the Heir of Slytherin get on with it. He says the school needs ridding of all the Mudblood filth, but not to get mixed up in it. Of course, he's got a lot on his plate at the moment. You know the Ministry of Magic raided our manor last week?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Harry tried to force Goyle's dull face into a look of concern.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Yeah..." said Nott. "Luckily, they didn't find much. Father's got some very valuable Dark Arts stuff. But luckily, we've got our own secret chamber under the drawing-room floor-"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Ho!" said Ron.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nott looked at him. So did Harry. Ron blushed. Even his hair was turning red. His nose was also slowly lengthening. Their hour was up; Ron was turning back into himself, and from the look of horror he was suddenly giving Harry, he must be, too.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They both jumped to their feet.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Medicine for my stomach," Ron grunted, and without further ado they sprinted the length of the Slytherin common room, hurled themselves at the stone wall, and dashed up the passage, hoping against hope that Nott hadn't noticed anything. Harry could feel his feet slipping around in Goyle's huge shoes and had to hoist up his robes as he shrank; they crashed up the steps into the dark entrance hall, which was full of a muffled pounding coming from the closet where they'd locked Crabbe and Goyle. Leaving their shoes outside the closet door, they sprinted in their socks up the marble staircase toward Moaning Myrtle's bathroom.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Well, it wasn't a complete waste of time," Ron panted, closing the bathroom door behind them. "I know we still haven't found out who's doing the attacks, but I'm going to write to Dad tomorrow and tell him to check under the Notts’ drawing room."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Harry checked his face in the cracked mirror. He was back to normal. He put his glasses on as Ron hammered on the door of Hermione's stall.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Hermione, come out, we've got loads to tell you -"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Go away!" Hermione squeaked from the other side.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Harry and Ron looked at each other.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"What's the matter?" said Ron. "You must be back to normal by now, we are!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But Moaning Myrtle glided suddenly through the stall door. Harry had never seen her looking so happy without Malfoy in the room.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Ooooooh, wait till you see," she crooned. "It's awful-"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They heard the lock slide back and Hermione emerged, sobbing, her robes pulled up over her head.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"What's up?" asked Ron uncertainly. "Have you still got Millicent's nose or something?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The robes fell, and Ron backed into the sink.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hermione's face was covered in black fur. Her eyes had turned yellow and there were long, pointed ears poking through her hair.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"It was a c-cat hair!" she howled. "M-Millicent Bulstrode m-must have a cat! And the p-potion isn't supposed to be used for animal transformations!"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Uh-oh," said Ron intelligently.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You'll be teased something dreadful," said Myrtle happily.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"It's okay, Hermione," said Harry quickly. "We'll take you up to the hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey never asks too many questions…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It took a long time to persuade Hermione to leave the bathroom, but Moaning Myrtle eventually sped them on their way with a hearty guffaw. "Wait till everyone finds out you've got a tail!"</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>